


Lapse in Memory

by nimiumcaelo



Series: kylux needs to get a room [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, kinda takes place after tlj but doesn't really matter when, legit everything here is implied, read the companion piece for more kylux action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 19:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13442187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: Sometimes a little Force-memory-wipeage (yes that is an actual term fight me) is neccesary, especially whensome people-- [glares at Kylo and Hux] -- can't be bothered to find a decent supply closet to make out in.





	1. SH-9283

SH-9283 walked methodically up and down the pristine black corridor, on patrol. As she walked, she swept her eyes left and right, gaze catching on the small indicators of life around the _Finalizer._

 

The floor wasn’t perfectly glossed in one section and she could see the dust building up in small crevices along the edge of the wall. One bolt was loose in the air vent she kept passing and she knew that if it started its circulation cycle that it would rattle. As of now, the only thing SH-9283 heard was the sound of her own uniform boots against the floor.

 

She came to the end of the corridor and made to turn – wait.

 

SH-9283 stopped, and listened; her hand flitted to the blaster at her hip. She had heard a clunk and a rustling of fabric – sounds indicative of a person sneaking around and trying to remove the clothing off of a patrol guard they had incapacitated. SH-9283 narrowed her eyes behind her helmet and cautiously made her way towards the the corridor opening in front of her.

 

She crept to the very edge and paused, out of sight of anyone within. Pressing her back against the wall, she listened quietly.

 

“Kriff, can’t this thing come off easier?”

 

“I didn’t design it.”

 

“You could have fooled me.”

 

SH-9283 smiled. So the traitor had an accomplice, eh? Well, she could take them; she hadn’t gone through months of security training for nothing.

 

Another clunk, and a hiss. SH-9283 pushed off the wall and gripped her blaster more tightly.

 

“There.” Something dropped heavily onto the floor. “Much better.” There was more rustling now. SH-9283 hoped she wouldn’t catch the traitors in the act of changing into false uniforms. That would be awkward.

 

She hoisted her blaster into a comfortable firing position and made to step forward, when her elbow hit the wall softly. She hoped the traitors wouldn’t notice.

 

“Wait,” one of the voices said quietly.

 

She cursed and retreated farther into the shadows. All was silence for one minute, two. SH-9283 held her breath and prayed they wouldn’t flee before she had the chance to apprehend them. If only she’d gathered up the nerve to request a partner for this patrol, then she could take on both of them without the need of surprise.

 

“It’s nothing; they’re gone. Come on.”

 

“But what if –”

 

“It’s _fine_. Stop worrying. You’re forgetting I _command_ this ship.” SH-9283 chuckled silently to herself. Yeah, sure, you command the ship. Kriffing traitors.

She heard an amused-sounding huff.

 

Trying to be as quiet as possible, SH-9283 crept forward again. She stood poised at the brink of the corridor, smirking as she heard more rustling. Then, she leapt into sight, aimed her blaster, and cried, “Freeze!”

 

* * *

 

 

Lying in her bunk, SH-9283 went back over the scene in her mind. She’d leapt into the corridor, she’d yelled, and she’d… what? Her mind was blank, save for a faint recollection of a smell – something like sweat and burned cotton – but that was pretty standard for the corridors near the training rooms.

 

Had she apprehended the traitors? The next place her memory picked up was when she was walking back to the barracks, just after her shift ended. What if they had gotten away? Were they even there? How did she not remember? Surely, it wasn’t because of that one rationed serving of stale brandy she’d downed with her dinner.

 

The only possible explanation she could come up with was that the scene she’d found was so mundane that her sleep-deprived brain simply hadn’t bothered to remember it. She rolled over tightly and tried to sleep, replaying the scene of several hours previously until she bored of it. It was probably nothing, she figured to herself, drifting off.

 

SH-9283 didn’t dream that night.

 


	2. Conversation .1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha look at me continuing this mess  
> what a joke amiright?
> 
> lol whatever

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

 

SH-9283 stared dismally into her plate of standard meal rations. The grey slop she poked at seemed to symbolize her mushed brains, and she shivered slightly as she imagined them sliding out her ears after she’d finally gone completely bonkers.

 

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you just made a mistake, ‘s’all.” KQ-1142 waved his fork lightly in emphasis, causing the glob of food speared on the end to tremble and nearly slide off. “There was probably nothing in that corridor and you don’t remember it because you were half-asleep.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“But hey, let’s forget about that.” KQ-1142 lowered his voice and smiled conspiratorially. “I heard AD-7829 …”

 

SH-9283 listened half-heartedly to her friend’s gossip. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was perhaps evidence of a greater Rebellion scheme to infiltrate the ship and bring the entire First Order to its knees and then she'd be in _so_ much trouble -- _if_ she was left alive, that is -- she wouldn't be able to up her assigned dessert rations for at least a year. That, or she had just zoned out again on another dull-as-a-doorknob routine patrol. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, if she kept getting assigned to the same quiet corridors night after night.

 

KQ-1142 finished his story and SH-9283 chuckled appreciatively. No need to wound his pride, after all. They finished their meal and deposited the remains down the trash chute.

 

“Meet you for a game tonight?” KQ-1142 asked, idling by the entrance to the mess hall.

 

“Yeah, sure.” SH-9283 smiled, then walked off to her first scheduled training.

 

She usually took the less-crowded route to training, but today several orange cones were blocking off the entrance to the passage. SH-9283 sighed and turned back, slipping past the main corridor leading to the bridge. If she was late she’d blame the renovations.

 

Just as she was rounding the corner, she nearly bumped into one of her superiors. Which one was this? Her brief glimpse of tight-scowl-stiff-drawn-up-slicked-back-ginger wasn’t much to go by.

 

“Watch where you’re going,” he spat.

 

“Yes, sir, I apologize.”

 

He was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for readin m8  
> \- M  
> comments always make me write flirtier so ... have at it ;))


	3. KQ-1142

KQ-1142 and TR-6672 shared a nervous glance.

 

“I did it last time,” TR-6672 said, tightly gripping the mop handle.

 

“And I cleaned up that mess in the lav the next day!” KQ-1142 whispered fervently.

 

They both stared down at the mostly-glossy-but-still-too-dusty-to-be-acceptable-to-First-Order-standards corridor. It had to be mopped, that was nonnegotiable. Just _who_ had to do the mopping, however, was still up in the air.

 

“Doesn’t count,” TR-6672 decided, shoving the mop at KQ-1142. KQ-1142 stumbled backwards, some of the water in the mop bucket he was holding sloshing out onto the floor. TR-6672 glared at him and started wiping up the mess.

 

“Yes it does! Why wouldn’t it count?”

 

“Because this is worse.”

 

“How is it worse? No one is even there. See?” KQ-1142 gestured at the empty corridor. “Their doors are all locked down. Besides, I’ll bet a hundred they won’t want to come out to watch us mop the floor.”

 

TR-6672 kept his glare firm. “How do you know?”

 

KQ-1142 sighed. Sure, it wasn’t fun to run into one of the officers, but it wasn’t like they’d kill you for looking funny at them, right? Oh, wait.

 

“Because I’m pretty sure they aren’t awake at 0200 hours. Because they actually get regular sleep schedules. Because they’re officers.”

 

“I’m not doing it.”

 

“Oh, come on,” KQ-1142 protested, but TR-6672 had already handed him the mop and started to walk away. “Really?”

 

TR-6672 flipped him off.

 

“Son of a bantha,” KQ-1142 huffed, dragging the mop bucket after him. How come he always got stuck with the officers’ quarters? He didn’t like them any more than the next ‘trooper.

 

KQ-1142 dipped the mop in the dirty water and started swiping the soggy mess across the floor. How this was supposed to actually  _clean_ anything KQ-1142 had no idea. He supposed it wasn’t that bad, though. He could be stuck on lav duty again. KQ-1142 shivered at the thought; lav duty was  _not_ fun.

 

Methodically swiping the mop only across the bare minimum of floor that would be noticed, KQ-1142 shuffled along past about five or six black doors whose security panels all flashed red – locked. If he wasn’t so completely certain that it would get him demoted or spaced, he might have even started humming. TR-6672 was a baby. This wasn’t so bad.

 

At first he didn’t notice the soft clunk of one of the doors unlocking because he was dragging the mop bucket heavily across the floor. He noticed the green flash on the security panel, though, when he turned to start mopping again, and it piqued his interest when the door remained closed. Surely no one would unlock their door and just leave it like that without exiting or entering?

 

What had SH-9283 been on about? Traitors? Oh, stars – what if they were breaking into the officers’ quarters?!

 

KQ-1142 slowly mopped his way over to the door. The cold metal nameplate above the security panel wrote out in bland, white letters the title “SUPREME LEADER.” KQ-1142’s stomach dropped like a spoonful of that ration glop.

 

He hadn’t ever  _seen_ the Supreme Leader personally, but he’d heard about other ‘troopers who had. Hell, TR-6672 had. Come to think of it, that was probably why he’d been so reluctant to mop this hallway.

 

KQ-1142 startled. Another door had unlocked, this one at the other end of and across the corridor. The little green light on the security panel seemed to glare at him with all the possibility of infiltration and punishment and awkward confrontations with senior officers. He hastily shoved his mop back in the bucket and tried to finish up the floor as quickly as possible.

 

Swiping his mop across the floor in front of the second unlocked door – this one labeled sternly “GRAND MARSHALL” – KQ-1142 muttered a circular litany of “please don’t open please don’t open please don’t open.”

 

Then, of course, he heard the hiss of a door opening. Just as he whipped his head around to see the Supreme Leader’s door swinging slowly open, he heard the mop handle drop and… and… 

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s where it cuts off,” he said, swirling some stale ration juice in his cup.

 

SH-9283 grinned. “I knew I wasn’t crazy. This has  _got_ to be some plot.”

 

“We’ll get so many awards,” she continued. “And maybe we’ll even get _two_ pairs of socks.”

 

KQ-1142 chuckled warily. “I don’t know about that,” he mumbled. He definitely felt a little weird after last night. Plus, he had this prickly headache pressing at his temples that just wouldn’t leave.

 

“You’ve gotta help me catch them.”

 

KQ-1142 sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

 

“Fine, fine. I’ll help.”


	4. Conversation .2

“And then you can’t remember anything afterwards?” SH-9283 suggested.

 

“And you’ve got a headache that won’t go away?” added KQ-1142, sipping at his cup of water.

 

AD-7829 stared at them goggle-eyed. She nodded, slowly. “Yeah… How’d you know?”

 

SH-9283 and KQ-1142 shared a glance.

 

“It happened to us, too,” SH-9283 said. “And to them,” she added, nodding towards a group of three spooked-looking ‘troopers sitting a table away. “Do you want to know what we think it is?”

 

AD-7829 nodded like a bobble-head someone’s set swinging.

 

SH-9283 lowered her voice and checked that no one was watching them.

 

“We think it’s a band of Rebel spies trying to infiltrate the ship,” she whispered dramatically.

 

“Wow. Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

KQ-1142 nodded gravely. “We’re trying to track them and take them down, but it’s really hard when no one can remember what they’ve seen of them. For all we know,” he added lowly. “The spies could be right behind us and we’d never know.”

 

AD-7829 gasped and covered her little rose-bud mouth with her hands. KQ-1142 pushed his shoulders back a little, satisfied at the reaction.

 

“How are you going to find them?” AD-7829 asked, gazing in admiration at KQ-1142.

 

SH-9283 spoke before KQ-1142 could. “We’re posting people at each of the locations where they’ve been, uh,  _not_ -spotted, and then we’re going to wait till something strange happens and then whoever’s at the scene will stay out of the way until the rest of us get there. Then, we’ll surround them and capture the kriffing traitors.”

 

“Serves them right,” muttered KQ-1142.

 

“Can I help?” AD-7829 turned her large eyes on SH-9283.

 

“Sure. Just stand by the bridge again tonight, right where you were yesterday, and make sure to bring your comm.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Good.” SH-9283 stood. “I’m going to go ask the others if they’ll help.”


	5. AD-7829

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they attacc

AD-7829 stood trembling near the mouth of the walkway onto the bridge. The main lights were off in there and a dark shadow unfurled like a wing out into the corridor she was in. Her wide eyes swung back and forth from the bridge and the hallway opening out behind it.

 

She recalled the previous night’s experience and bit her lip.

 

She’d heard someone humming and then she’d walked over to investigate. At first she couldn’t see anything. Black figures danced within the deeper overall darkness, but they always did that, didn’t they?

 

Something popped wetly and she’d called out a timid greeting. She had gotten no reply.

 

Now, she stared into that same patch of darkness and tried to keep her fingers from twitching to her blaster too readily. Had she remembered to turn on her comm? Yes, there it was – the indicator light flashed steadily – it was clipped onto her belt and within easy reach. Her own boot squeaked on the waxed floor and she jumped.

 

She sighed and tried to steady herself. She’d been on patrol several times before, but most often she was with a partner. This whole defending-the-entire-ship-from-possible-threats thing was a little stressful, to say the least.

 

Her comm crackled, then SH-9283’s voice patched through.

 

“AD-7829, are you on site?”

 

AD-7892 hurriedly unclipped her comm from her belt and held it to her mouth, eyes still sweeping the shadows.

 

“Yes, I’m here. I haven’t found anything, yet.”

 

“Okay, great. KQ-1142 is by the officers’ quarters and I’m at training room 23. I’ve got people posted at a couple of the other training rooms, and RF-4144 is by the laundry room on deck 8.”

 

“Have they heard anything yet?”

 

SH-9283 sighed and it came through the comm as a stuttering buzz. “No, but they’ve got their eyes and ears out.”

 

“Okay. Um – do you think they’ll show up here?” AD-7829 felt a little silly for asking, but it was knawing at her and she didn’t want to feel afraid if there wasn’t any reason to.

 

“I don’t think so. So far they haven’t gone to the same place two nights in a row, but I don’t know if they’ll keep up the pattern. Spies are spies, you know.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright, well, I’ll let you know when we hear anything, okay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The comm went quiet. Suddenly, it crackled to life again and AD-7829 nearly dropped it.

 

“AD-7829!” SH-9283 sounded excited. “We’ve got them! They’re with RF-4144 at the laundry room! Head on over as soon as you can!”

 

“Wait –“ AD-7829 started to protest, but the line was already closed. She sighed and clipped it back onto her belt.

 

The hallway leading up to the laundry room was filled with nervous ‘troopers. AD-7829 spotted KQ-1142 and headed over to him.

 

“Hello,” he said. “We’ve found the spies.”

 

“Are they in there?” The laundry room doors were shut, but the lights were on far inside, casting a faint pus-colored light through the crack above the floor.

 

“We think so. RF-4144 heard some banging around, and then the lights went on. No one’s scheduled to be inside for another half-hour, according to the schedule.”

 

AD-7829 felt a bloom of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. “Are you sure they didn’t just arrive early?”

 

KQ-1142 chuckled quietly. “We’re sure.”

 

SH-9283 stood at the front of the small crowd. She had her blaster in her hands and was having a whispered conversation with RF-4144, who had his eyes on the floor by his feet. SH-9283 nodded and RF-4144 stepped back a bit. She then turned to face the ‘troopers gathered behind her.

 

“Okay, everyone, here’s the plan. First, half of us go to the auxiliary doors on hall 23L. Then, when I give the signal, everyone heads in, blasters ready. Some of us will probably go down, but I think with the split-up tactic, everyone should be fine. We shoot to kill these Rebel scum and if you find any you get them. Clear?”

 

Everyone responded, “Clear.”

 

AD-7829 followed KQ-1142 and two others to the auxiliary doors and hoisted her blaster into her hands. SH-9283 counted down from three over the comm, then they pushed open the doors.

 

* * *

 

 

AD-7829 looked over her ration card again. This couldn’t be right! Last she’d checked, she’d had three meals and a dessert, plus eight water and two supplement drinks. Now her card had the bare minimum afforded to new ‘troopers: two meals and five water, nothing else. She walked over to the nearest ‘trooper, RF-4144.

 

“Did yours get changed, too?” he asked her, glancing at her card. He showed her his own. “Mine did. Just the bare bones, I guess.”

 

“Huh. Maybe they’ve run late on a shipment.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

AD-7829 received her allotted morning meal ration and went to sit down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol what even
> 
> thanks for reading, dudes XD  
> I'm planning on writing a companion piece for this from Kylo + Hux's pov, so keep your eyes peeled. Gotta love my special shitty brand of kylux, amirite? ;))
> 
> \- M


End file.
